The Mysteries of the 40K Universe
by Fist Of Russ
Summary: Join Abaddon, Kharn, Lucius, Ahriman and Typhus as they uncover the answers to the Mysteries of the 40K Universe!


One day, when Kharn the Betrayer was eating a skinned Ork Sausage and an Eldar bladder cheeseburger, Lucius the Eternal walked up to Kharn, muttering in nasty little voice about doing nasty little things with a nasty little sword and a nasty little whip, and said, "Yo dog! Hippy hippy hop!" in rapper voice.

Kharn stared at Lucius for several long minutes, then promptly hit the Slaanesh devotee in the head with GoreChild.

"Thanks." The slimy, pathetic, weak compared to the Iron Warriors and Tyranids, foolish, idiot said. "That's been happening since this hip-hop rapper prick killed me with his hip-hop radio." Then Slicy Mcslice slice remembered something very important. Fulgrim ate his puppy, Fred. Oh, and Abaddon wanted him to get Kharn, Ahriman, Chief Hobo and Liberian of the Thousand Sons, and the smelly herald of Nurgle, Typhus, and bring them to the newly rebuilt _Planet Killer_.

So he told Kharn this.

"Why did Fulgrim eat your puppy?"

Lucius pouted and said, "Because his name started with F. He ate all the Emperor's Children whose names started with F. Frank, Frederick, Fran, Frab, Fil, Fab, Fid, Fry, Fragadoodle. All of them" He started crying, so Kharn, thinking it was all he could do, cut a couple of cultists' heads off and fed them to his pet Bloodhound. Then kicked Lucius in the can. Lucius then told Kharn about Abaddon's massage.

Kharn rubbed his chin suspiciously. "Why should I believe YOU? After all whose hand did I cut off? Who do I serve? How was I eating when my helmet is part of my body? Why am I asking you these questions? Huh? Huh?"

A little clock appeared and started to count down from ten, that music that you hear when someone has a certain time limit in which to answer a question.

"Ah, You cut the now dead Wolf Lord Berek's hand off. You serve the God O' Blood. You eat by shoving it through the nose hole. And"

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

"FOOL!" and Kharn shoved a pineapple up the infidels arse. Leaves first. And it was a really bug one. Like a really, really big one. One bigger than a football. Twice, no! three times the size of a soccer ball. Its pointy leaves where like 8-feet long. And covered in caramel. And…

Excuse me for that. Or not. I don't really care either way. I mean, what are you gonna do to me. Throw a hissy fit and hire a hit man.

Well, back to the story. So Kharn and Lucius went off to find their good friend Ahriman.

They travelled billions of light years, fighting beasts, braving violent storms, and beating back pirates as they fulfilled their heroic quest. Finally they made to the residence of their next companion.

Number 9 Hobypooby Street.

Kharn elected to do the normal thing. He knocked on the large blue door of the large blue house with a gold window frames and gold trimings. Oh, and by the way, he knocked on the door with his axe. For some unforseeable reason this caused the door to be smashed to tiny bits.

"Well that was odd.**"**Kharn said.

"Oh dear, what happened to my door. Oh, hallo Kharn, you unsophisticated monkey, and hallo Lucius, how's the forbidden pleasure been lately?" Ahriman greeted them, wondering why his door was scattered across his floor.

At the same time, Lucius was wondering why the sissy Tzeentchian sorceror hippy hop was dressed as a hip hop cool dude muffin (damn rapper). Kharn, meanwhile, was cleaning some pieces of space marine from his armor. Their flesh got every where and was so hard to remove.

Normally a long chain of weird and random events would follow, and they did, but since I can't be stuff writing them down and I want to finish soon I'll just sum up what happened. It involved a ruber monkey, a fake boob, several gallons of glue, a fat woman with breasts the size of the ego of one of those obnoxious hawaiian shirt wearing American tourist who are patronizing, a clam and a purple fish named quincy john who had the combined IQ level of George Bush and short old Johnny Howard (one digit).

Our three villians used one of Ahriman's Discs of Tzeentch to fly to the most diseased place in the Galaxy. London. They found Typhus and several fat Death Guard marines handing out free food and medicine to the poor for some unknowable reason. Leaving his pals their, Typhy hoped on the Disc and they flu away.

"I say, my plague bearing fellow, that was rather nice of you and you friends. Handing out food and medicine to the poor." Ahriman said in his ever so sissy, prissy weakling voice.

Typhy laughed. "oh, well, I was feeling rather goodwill and all, so we raided the van going round giving food, medicine and clothes, burnt the clothes, poured most of the food and medicine into the river and sold the rest after coughing on it. I made 100 dollars."

"Yo yo yo! That hip! Dude! I hippy hop thought you rappy rap rap were goin' rippy rap soft. Dude!" the weakling rapper infected fool hip-hop out.

Later, as Abaddon was testing his sponge cake cannon on a weak (like all Eldar related things) Eldar Avatar, the four little whores arrived.

"**GOOD EVENING FELLOWS**!" Abaddon bellowed, ignoring the fact that it was 7 am. "**SILENCE**!" he ordered, still shouting, the silent room. "**HMM, A BIT LATE IN SAYING THAT WASN'T I**?"H bellow/asked. "**WHO IS THAT SHOUTING? STOP REPEATING ME! I SAID SILENCE**!" after a few more hours yelling at himself to be quiet he got the point of gathering them. "**I HAVE DECIDED TO GATHER THE FINEST OF THE WARRIORS OF CHAOS TO MY SIDE SO WE MAY EMBARK ON A GLORIOUS QUEST OF EEEVVVIIILLLL! NOT KNOWING THOSE WARRIORS I GOT YOU LOT! FROM THIS NANO SECOND, NO WAIT THIS NANO SECOND, NO THIS NANO-SEC- OH BUGGER IT, FROM THIS HOUR FORTH WE ARE THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE FART, QUESTERS OF DARK KNOWLEDGE, THE ONES WHO WILL DISCOVER THE ANSWERS TO ALL THE GALAXIES MYSTERIES! LIKE HOW DO ORKS AND TAU REPRODUCE, HOW DO TYRANIDS HOLD BALLONS WITH POPPING THEM, AND WHAT HAPPENS TO A SPACE MARINES GENITALIA WHEN THEY GET THEIR ARMOR, BECAUSE WE ALL FORGOT**!" Abaddon bellowed. The now formed FELLOWSHIP OF THE FART stared at him.

And so begins their great adventure of epicly crapy porpotions.

BladderreddalB 

I want you to know I mean no offense to any english people. The English are great at making comedy shows. I love'm. and I did mean to Bush and Howard (the little war starting bitchs).

And I make fun some armies because my friends coolect them.

I was gonna say something else but I forgot what.

"**I, ABADDON, ORDER YOU TO REVIEW!"**


End file.
